


Very Foolish Things

by superb_mediocrity



Category: Taboo (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Dark, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Gen, Love / Hate, M/M, Manipulation, Multi, Other, Past Sexual Abuse, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Spoilers, Taboo, Unresolved Sexual Tension, james keziah delaney - Freeform, very foolish things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-24 21:57:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9788873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superb_mediocrity/pseuds/superb_mediocrity
Summary: "Don't talk to me of sense Brace, because if it is you, I might believe it......and i have sworn to do very foolish things." -- James Delaney, 1x1.From the moment James Delaney returns to London from Africa for his father's funeral, he finds himself at the center of attention. The subject of much interest and debate, he plans to take London by storm, but needs the help of a very particular crew to aid in achieving his goal while under the watchful eye of various opposing political powers. His every move is shrouded with anticipation, and no one he touches is spared. What makes Noemi any different?This is a fic featuring my original character, Noemi, and her dealings involving the mysterious Mr. James Keziah Delaney. It is based off of the TV series Taboo (2017).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I would love constructive comments / criticism! This fic is going outside of my usual genre, so it will be interesting to see how I do! 
> 
> Thank YOU!

Falling asleep was difficult for Noemi.

Once vacated of its patrons, the brothel always seemed too empty, the thin mattress she shared too large, and the sweaty, sex suffused air too cold. 

She would often become restless, her muscles aching for movement, but a ravenous, seizing fear would suddenly grip her by the throat and root her to the bed; fixing her in place until the sharp spasms of pain pulsing through her petrified muscles dulled, lulling her into a fitful sleep. 

Last night had been no different; the jagged edges of light that struggled through the window tickling her eyes awake with their elusiveness. Visions of smoke and flame emerged as she followed the flickering flecks of shadow, their potency dimming only with the arrival of a dusky gray glow over the harbor. As the first flecks of orange appeared on the horizon, Noemi finally slid off to sleep, the barren echo of silence resounding in her ears.

It was for this reason that she found herself particularly perturbed to be awoken by the thundering roar of belligerent voices accompanied by the clumsy scrape of a key being rather forcibly inserted into the brothel’s front door. 

“Oi! What are you doing with the door? You want a bush you come through me. That is private property.”

A low expression of sound beyond the large wooden barrier alerted Noemi to a reply regarding her matron’s boisterous interrogation. Even in the vacuous silence of early morning, Noemi could just barely make out a man’s entreating response. 

“Helga! It’s so good to see that you’re still working…even still alive. You know that I lay with you when I was just a little boy?”

If her mistress responded, it was too quiet to hear, and subsequently Noemi was deaf to the exchange between Helga and the intruder. Silence ensued, and for a few precious moments, Noemi felt herself drift back towards oblivion, feeling secure in the emerging light of dawn. 

“ _This_ key? This is my father’s key. Horace Delaney, hmm?”

“Shit.”

“Yes, _shit_.” The abrupt words reverberated forcefully off of the chalky stone walls. Curious about the intrusion, Noemi scrambled to her knees, and peaked through the delicate lace fabric that sheltered her and Winter from view. She arrived just in time to see a tall man in dark clothing burst through the door. He entered the room with lumbering confidence, victory already written into his heels as he swaggered over to the large bed in the center of the room, lifting the curtain to reveal a tangle of naked bodies.

“Your father stopped coming. It was empty. It was wasted…so close to the docks!” 

Helga’s tone was contrite, resigned, and Noemi couldn't help but feel the fraudulence in her remorse. _Who has ever made Helga apologize?_

Denying her offer of tea, the stranger and her mistress circled each other, neither bothering to monitor the gradual increase in volume that soon had all of Helga’s whores staring unabashedly from their beds as they considered the proceedings. 

“Do you want a fuck?

“No. I want my family offices back.”

 _Family offices?_ Noemi stilled as she listened, the red dredges of her damnable curiosity creeping up to stain her ears as she briefly studied the supreme object of her interest—the supposed heir of the old man Delaney. Helga cursed in German, the hard consonants garbled by anger and frustration. 

“How much do you make here?”

 _Such a strange question_. Noemi was enthralled as she watched Helga’s shrewd eyes examine their guest, his expectant silence making Noemi’s heart flutter with excitement. 

“With the workers in the yard and the boats that moor at the wharf, we make ten pounds a day. I can give you five, and whatever you like. Boys, girls, suck, fuck...”

Noemi couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped upon hearing Helga’s offer, and was even more shocked to find herself the new subject of his unwavering attention as a pair a cloudy eyes caught sight of her own. Noemi passed several moments of painful scrutiny as he regarded her in silence; embarrassment at being caught eavesdropping rendering her motionless, frozen beneath his icy glare. 

“You have two hours to get out.”

Noemi shivered as he spoke, the jarring lilt of his speech liberating her from the perpetual punishment of his gaze.

“You say I took your cherry?” 

Helga’s response was a desperate one; flustered. Everything, from her tone of voice to body language, was oozing tepid sensuality. It was clear to Noemi that she was talking now to buy time, to postpone the inevitable, and Noemi was sure that if it was obvious to her, then Helga’s intentions would be perfectly transparent to their guest. A shadow darkening her already dim view, Noemi watched as the somber Delaney turned back to Helga, only bothering to grunt in answer to her query.

“Mm.”

Closing the short distance between them, Helga murmured sweetly in response to his rumblings; her tone developing a slight maternal inflection. “Where have you been little boy?” Reaching out, she attempted to trace the jagged trench that marred the area just below his left eye, but her hand was swallowed by his own as he deflected her attentions. 

“I’ve been in the world.”

The stranger’s icy tone sent shrieking pangs of unease coursing through the girl, and for a moment she wondered if perhaps this was all part of some nightmare; a malicious trick of her imagination caused by a lack of sleep. However, even as her hope was born, it died under the crushing disapproval of his gaze as her mistress whispered something almost completely inaudible, grabbing him stiffly by the collar.

“…they’re not very good men, you understand?”

“Mm.”

“They have rocks for hearts. They have knives and ropes…” She clutched his coat like a lifeline, the bony white blunts of her knuckles peeking through that distinctively grimy layer of salt and brine that cover the bodies of all those who live at the Wapping Wall. Even for all of her misguided flirtations, however, Helga was nothing if not the image of confidence as she purred yet again, softly in his ear.

“…if you have any sense—“ 

Her advice was interrupted by the screech of wood against stone and a clatter as several dishes and baubles fell to floor, shattered to dust. 

“People who do not know me soon come to understand that I do not have any sense!”

His tone was cold, his words deliberate, and there was no doubt in Noemi’s mind that he meant exactly what he said. A sudden, warm pressure at her side alerted the girl to Winter’s presence, and crouching together in the sheltering dark of their lofted sanctuary, they listened eagerly for the man’s next words. 

“Now, please do not misunderstand the situation. You send me twelve men, I will return you twelve sets of testicles in a bag, and we can watch your little whores devour them together. Before I chop off your trotters. And boil them. ” He included the last addition with a flourish of his hand; a series of deliberate wags as he flaunted a thick iron key underneath Helga’s nose.

“Two hours” he repeated, holding two fingers up to emphasize his point. 

Noemi and Winter watched breathlessly as he turned away from his audience; a greedy curiosity giving them the courage to peak their heads out of the thin curtains in order to watch the solemn figure make his exit. The man had almost reached the door when Helga’s sputtering cackle stopped him in his tracks. 

“You, I remember you. I remember you! Heard the stories…If I give you a girl, I will never see her again…”

Noemi felt her throat constrict as her heart danced sporadically in her chest. _What could she mean by that?_

His response was immediate, curt, and completely unblemished by emotion.

“You heard right. Be punctual.”


	2. Damnation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I like to see what lies beneath." 
> 
> James Keziah Delaney, 1x2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love feedback! Feel free to leave comments / kudos!

“Tell me again.” 

Crouching low in the dark, Noemi made to confront her companion, her efforts futile beneath the velvet viscosity that blanketed them from above. A curse bubbling in her throat, she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her right ear, replacing the hollow left by the blunted cigar that now rested between the crooked upturn of her lips. The vigorous strike of a match on stone cut through the clutter of commerce from the docks nearby, and Noemi took a few long drags from the stub, watching as the spark set her comrade’s face aglow in dim red flame. 

Noemi tossed the butt to the ground with a frustrated sigh and grabbed the other girl by the chin, tugging sharply so that their eyes met. There was only silence as they both waited, each expecting the other to break the spell of buzzing tension. Their stubborn exchange was interrupted, however, by a screaming burst of wind that clawed through the harbor, slashing the pair with its salty daggers. Icy whispers soon filled Noemi’s ears, their hissing wail chilling her to her core.

Practiced arms tangled themselves around Winter’s frame, mechanical in their protection. Pressing the child against the sheltering hollow of her body, Noemi took the brunt of the assault, wondering frantically if Winter also heard the hollow voices that hung on the dredges of the wind. A final shiver pricked at her neck as the gale passed on, but her instinctual unease was quashed by the distant thud of heavy boots. 

Noemi shuddered, desperation evident in the tremble of her voice. “What are you to tell him!” 

Winter’s dark gaze met her own, her eyes impassive as she regarded her shaking friend. 

“I tell him that Mistress Helga gave information to a man with a silver tooth. I say that he means to do him harm, and the mistress knew it.”

“And?” Noemi adjusted the stiff brim of a dark hat, sweeping away the salty grime that had been carried in by the wind.

“And…” Winter rolled her eyes as she rehearsed, warranting a gentle pinch from Noemi. “I tell him where the boat is moored.”

“Good girl.” Slapping the hat onto Winter’s head, Noemi signaled towards the approaching crunch of boots; shooing Winter from the spot where they hid just as a determined James Delaney passed by. Once she was sure that Winter had his attention, Noemi snuck away, tucking her chin in towards her chest as she disappeared into the shadows to wait as Winter completed her errand.   
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

She could see the fire from the docks, the hazy flame no more than a glow on the horizon as a fog settled on the river. Inhaling deeply, Noemi sputtered as thick threads of smoke from the burning ruin pressed against her lungs, tightening around the gurgling lump that threatened to asphyxiate her with its unwavering density. Slipping her bare feet to and fro in the murky shallows, Noemi rocked with the swell of the water, captivated by the white froth that patterned the spiraling channels following her naked ankles.

“Do you think everyone is naked in Africa?”

Noemi’s barking laugh was carried by the slapping waves, and she beamed at Winter’s sincerity. “Why don’t you ask your new friend?”

“I already did. He didn’t tell me anything.”

The pair sat in silence for a while, watching the hazy silhouettes of ships traversing the river in the distance. Frantic shouts coming from the glowing center of the water alerted the girls to the desperate efforts of the dockhands to douse the raging beacon of flame that refused to drown in the salty brine.

“I think he’s dangerous.” Winter’s voice was barely above a whisper, and Noemi struggled briefly to hear her. 

_Me too_ , she wanted to reply, but something within her barred the words from leaving her mouth, rendering her mute in pensive reflection as she gazed out at the flames that brightened their foggy town.

“He promised to take me to America.” 

Winter’s eyes were bright and eager, and Noemi’s breath caught in her chest. She imagined a primal place, a land of dark, lush forests, and heaving, painted bodies that gyrated suggestively in the firelight. The idea made her body ache, and something wild deep within her claimed momentary possession of her faculties. In a moment of desperate determination, she grabbed Winter’s hand and squeezed it gently as she focused on the brightening sky, resolved to see for herself the distant world that danced so elusively in her imagination.  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The following night found Noemi fluttering busily about the brothel’s kitchen serving the bouts of newly grounded shipping crews that crowded the docks. Idly, she noted the newcomers were dripping with the distinct odor of stale isolation brought about by weeks at sea, the stench peppered with the heady fragrance of sex. Armed with full plates and flagons of ale, Noemi rushed from table to table, beads of perspiration clinging appealingly to the gentle curves of her bosom. 

A sudden flood of red spread across the aging yellow fabric of the girl’s blouse, unfurling so that it covered entirely the raised peaks of her breasts with its pungent sanguinity. Greedy hands groped at her, and more crimson liquid spilled from a goblet held by a rather squat customer with pockmarks and menacing gray eyes. Lips struck her own, tasting overwhelmingly of wine, and then she was falling, coming to crash onto the welcoming lap of another, larger man. She protested as strong arms reached around her, holding her imprisoned in a stiff embrace. Her refusals, however, were met with laughter as the first man reached under her apron, vigorously pinching the fleshy mound at the apex of her thighs.

Struggling violently, Noemi shoved against her imprisoner, who set her free with a loud guffaw. Spittle flew from his decaying maw, striking Noemi’s cheek and making her gag. Tasting metal, the girl swayed as a dizzying repulsion unsettled her stomach and made her want to retch. The world seeming to shift precariously, and she stumbled out of the brothel and down a back ally; desperate for air. Once outside, she walked aimlessly, a tickling urge encouraging her deep into darkened alleys that joined the docks. A sudden tumble of motion caught her attention as she wandered, and she quickly sank into the shadows; bearing witness to a rapid succession of movement so effortlessly efficient it would have passed unnoticed had Noemi not been there to see it herself. 

There was a solid _thump_ as a shrouded figure fell motionless onto the pavement. Noemi’s heart stopped as the victor stood over his victim, swaying a little before falling into crumpled heap. A shuddering sigh reached her ears just as she noticed the silvery glint of metal protruding from the winners abdomen. In a rush of blind adrenaline, Noemi crossed the darkened street, bypassing the motionless heap that obstructed her goal, and knelt by the injured person, shocked to see the unconscious face of James Delaney.

For a moment, she was unable to move, paralyzed by the thought of him waking up to discover that she had seen the aftermath of his little tussle in the dark. _Would he want to kill her too?_ A gruff moan from Delaney called the girl back to the situation at hand, and without allowing herself to think about what she was doing, she grabbed the shaft of the dagger that was lodged inside of him and yanked, pressing his head to her chest in order to muffle his unconscious groans of protest as the blade exited his body. Biting her lip, Noemi pushed against the wound, attempting to keep the crimson warmth from leaving his body, but her efforts were futile, and bright gushes of red oozed between her fingers.

In a fit of desperation, Noemi began to slap Delaney, hoping pain would wake him up. She accompanied her abuses with gentle murmurs, inviting him back to consciousness, and was pleased by his sputtering protestations as she wrapped his heavy arm around her shoulders. Supporting as much of his weight as she could, she ordered the dazed man to walk, explaining that they needed to find help, but he remained unresponsive. 

She had almost managed to drag him the length of the ally when Delaney lashed out in a sudden, violent fit. Wrenching his arm from her shoulder, he pushed Noemi away from him; his frenzied eyes scanning the empty dark. With a muffled howl, he reached up and wrapped his fingers around her throat, cutting off her air supply. Choking, Noemi clawed at his fingers, hands, and arms—desperate to stop him in any way. 

Just as she was almost overcome by those flashing pinpricks of light that signal unconsciousness, an idea came to her mind unbidden, a parcel of sound exploding from her lips with desperate abandon and causing her attacker to drop her immediately. He seemed confused for a moment, his unseeing eyes tinged with blatant incredulity as he regarded her gasping form. Before he could grab her again, however, Noemi disappeared into the long shadows of the docks, fear yapping at her heels. As she hurried away, Noemi swore she could hear the prickle of whispers teasing her ears, their breezy rumors accompanying the unmistakable saunter of James Delaney as he hastened away from the docks, rivulets of blood dribbling down his chin and blackening his shirt.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You don't speak, but you do have answers. You do." 
> 
> \--James Keziah Delaney, Taboo (2017), 1x3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thrive on feedback! Let me know how I'm doing!!
> 
> <3 thanks for reading :)

All across Wapping Wall reverberated the cries of carrion birds as they sought their prey in the gray foggy dawn. If the inhabitants of the area noticed, however, they ignored the creatures’ desperate shrieking, choosing instead to focus on the delicate workings of life rather than worry about the disposal of another of the innumerable dead that washed up on shore with the tide.

A momentary glimmer of light signaled Noemi to the dazzling reflection stemming from an exposed silver tooth. The skinny girl crouched over the corpse for a long while, inhaling the stench of fish and decay. She savored the odor, letting it fill her head and satiate some deep urge within her that seemed to pump directly along the bloody route to her heart. To Noemi, there seemed to be something attractive about the darkness that blotted the world; something that drew her in and held her close, captivating her with its putrid mystery. 

Taking the tiny dagger that she hid in her boot, she sliced the graying flesh of the man and marveled at the slow coagulation of blackened blood. She became momentarily concerned upon seeing that middle of him was gone, however; all of his guts pressed neatly against the walls of skin. Noemi stared at the space where she knew the heart should be, and was greeted by an empty shell. 

Something inside her triggered then, and flashes of the night before darkened her perception of the present. Suddenly, she was blind—falling into an abyss of memory that left her shaking in the muddy waste that sheltered the dead man’s carcass.

_–Slick, icy hands clawed at her throat, painting smears of blood on her neck. She began panting, gasping for air. She could taste the hollow metallicity of asphyxiation coating her tongue, leaving it thick and heavy in her mouth. Her sight started to fade, and Noemi focused on the thick rivers of red that coated her attackers’ lips and trickled down his chin before she lashed out—screaming something that she had heard in her nightmares—_

The girl shivered, barely recovered from the attack of recollection when harsh rivers of sound flooded her ears once more, and a new barrage of memories emerged, accompanied now by shivering whispers that had all but lost any meaning to her unaccustomed ears.

_Demonio.  
…una amenaza para todos nosotros… ¿qué hacemos si escap—?  
¡Cállate ya! Podría oírnos…_

Noemi shook the voices from her head. She could only understood bits and pieces of them now, the twisted language starting to scramble and fade with the passing of every year she spent on London’s rocky shore. Glancing again at the lifeless form that splashed against the muddy pillars of the docks, Noemi considered the myriad of possible things that could have happened to this poor man—but deep in her heart she knew what she had seen... 

As if it were occurring in front of her, she relived the moment she witnessed James Delaney’s darkened shadow blot out the dim glow emitted by the lamp at the end of the street. Frantic and bright, Delaney’s teeth had gleamed in the light, enhanced by the bloody shine that dripped so prettily onto the dusty street below... Noemi gasped for air as she felt the tendrils of memory tighten their hold around her, suffocating her just as Delaney had meant to the previous night, but a child’s eager voice shattered the memories.

“The fishes ate his heart out!” 

“Maybe the fishes, maybe not.” Noemi swallowed the perverse smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. “And the silver tooth is mine.”

 _It could make a nice peace offering_ , Noemi hoped. It would show that she didn’t have any intention of spilling his secret. _And quite the secret it was, too_. A wicked satisfaction warmed her chest, and another feeling she couldn’t quite understand began to blossom within her. Besides, there was something that she wanted from him; something only he could offer her— _America_.

Even the distant idea of it sent shivers down her neck. Winter and Noemi had been planning such an escape for years; stealing purses and saving penny after penny as they idly dreamed for their turn to jump onto one of the sloops that continuously poured into the harbor. 

Taking the soiled blade, Noemi lay the tip between the dead man’s teeth, gently pressing until the silver tooth popped into her waiting hand.

“Check his pockets, boys. After that, start ahead on our normal business; I hear there’s t’ be a grand crowd gathered tonight at Covent Garden.”

The children regarded her with greedy eyes before they began rifling through the corpses’ waterlogged pockets. As they disturbed the body, Noemi again noticed faint twinges of rot tinting the breeze. With a heavy sigh, she turned to Winter, nodding that she should take over directing their little band of larks. She was eager to confront the carnivorous beast, James Delaney, before he had the chance to eat her heart, too.


End file.
